Forget Me Not
by onekisstotakewithmex
Summary: The rooftop where blood ran freely is turned from a place of death to a place of rebirth. Kibbs (kind of?), McLilah is mentioned, season 13/14 spoilers


The newspaper was dropped on his desk, by McGee. The timing couldn't have been any better, because it was only a few weeks after DiNozzo resigned and packed up to head to Paris with Tali. The office was still reeling, so to speak, and Gibbs was feeling painfully nostalgic (a feeling he most certainly wasn't accustomed to).

It still didn't stop him from snapping at McGee, who was staring down at him with an unreadable look on his face. "What, Tim?"

"Real estate section, boss. Page 12." McGee went back to his desk, still watching Gibbs.

Confused, he opened the newspaper, only to find what McGee was talking about circled in red permanent marker. He looked over at McGee, mouth dry when he saw the heading. And still forced himself to look over the listing.

He read it aloud, as he stood, walking over to McGee's desk. _"_ A spacious warehouse in the Newport News area, formerly owned by Hogan Generators Incorporated, with utilities, rooftop access and adjacent parking, close to Norfolk, ideal for companies based in and around the Norfolk area. Contact realtor Marcy Parker for more details…" he trailed off, looking up. "What the hell is this?"

"I…" McGee was suddenly flustered, and Gibbs was relieved that they were the only two in the bullpen. "I dunno boss, I just thought… it's…"

"Is this what I think it is?"

"Yes."

He hadn't known that the warehouse was privately owned. To him, it was just a building. The blood had long since been washed away by the rain and the weather, but every year, he still went and placed roses there. It still haunted his nightmares on occasion. Looking between McGee and the newspaper ad, he instinctively looked between the two empty desks.

Kate. Ziva. Tony.

 _Too many good agents gone._

He tried to rid himself of the lump in his throat, the emotions he couldn't quite get rid of. "Why, McGee? Why the hell would ya show me this?"

"In the interest of closure." McGee stood again too, so that they were eye to eye. "Boss, what have we done to honour the people we've lost?"

"The wall-," he started.

"No," McGee cut him off, leaving Gibbs blinking and staring at him. If Kate had still been alive, she'd have been stunned and proud of McGee for _daring_ to interrupt Gibbs. " _Us._ What have _we,_ the team done? Nothing."

"And what do ya want me to do about it, Tim? Set up a memorial fund? Put up a statue?" His sarcasm was only mildly deserved, and Gibbs probably should have left it well alone.

Tim narrowed his eyes. "Boss, with all due respect, if you don't think that they were our family in the same way I did, then you can go to hell."

" _What_?"

Surprisingly for McGee, he didn't even apologize. "I'm not an idiot, boss. Maybe for the first few years, I didn't figure it out… but you were in love with Kate."

Instead of denying it, which was Gibbs' first instinct, he simply nodded.

"Maybe you didn't tell us because of rule 12 or because of your own track record… with Jenny.. uh, Director Shepard… anyway…" Gibbs was glaring at him again, so he summed it up. "You told Tony that Ziva wasn't just an agent to him. And you were speaking from experience, right? Because of Kate."

He didn't see a point in lying any longer. Not when Tim was one of the few who could still ask about Kate. One of the few who knew she'd lived. "We weren't ready to tell ya. Didn't feel… we could handle it."

"You mean you didn't think that Tony and I were mature enough to discuss two of our co-workers in a relationship?" Tim grinned a little. "Because you're absolutely right. Look, boss, you gotta do what you gotta do. But this is a good opportunity."

"Yeah, Tim."

"And a wise man once told me to not waste good," Tim said, looking Gibbs directly in the eye, and for a second, Gibbs couldn't help but be proud of how far he'd come. And he only hoped that someday Tim could replace him.

Ellie walked in just as Gibbs' phone rang, effectively ending the moment and the conversation. It wasn't exactly one they could have, and now that there weren't two empty desks in the squad room, he could forget.

The two desks that said more than their occupants ever had while there. Gibbs tucked the newspaper into a desk drawer, resolving to call the realtor when he had a spare moment, but as he hung up the phone, he looked at his team. "Grab your gear. Body in Norfolk."

As they walked out, Tim walked beside him, "So are you going to consider it, boss?"

"Considerin' it, sure." But he already knew what his decision would be.

 **XNCISX**

The warehouse had been dirt cheap, because of an unspecified tragedy that had occurred eleven years prior to it going up for sale.

Yeah, an NCIS agent getting her brains blown out definitely counted as an unspecified tragedy.

It wasn't as though he couldn't afford it. Gibbs had had the money, money that Mike had left him in his will, almost a thank you for being his friend. He didn't need thanks.

Now he was standing on the roof of the warehouse, feeling a chill go down his spine as he stood there. He felt his gut churning, and knew that nothing he could do would possibly replace the lives lost. To make up for the pain suffered by agents who had come before and after him. He started walking aimlessly along the roof, the final confrontation playing out in his mind, and he couldn't forget it. He couldn't stop the playback, was powerless to it, until finally he got to a certain point, where his feet refused to go another step, and despite the protests of his joints – _I've gotten old since ya left, Katie –_ he sank to his knees on the spot, and then he knew why he'd been drawn here.

 _This was the spot._

He buried his head in his hands, paralyzed with grief and anger. "Why, Katie? Why did ya have to die?"

"Gibbs."

He froze, his heart pounding in his chest, because… _that was Kate's voice._ It couldn't be. Kate was dead in the ground, and had been for eleven years. That was all there was to it. And he still looked up, only to find her standing there, staring down at him with a wistful smile.

He hadn't seen her since Dorneget's death. "What are ya doin' here, Katie?"

"I came to visit. And why not?" She shrugged. "You're here."

"Been comin' here for years, never saw ya before. Why now?"

"Ziva's dead, Gibbs."

"I know." His voice cracked. "We lose agents all the time… there is _always_ a chance ya go out the door and don't come back."

"It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt." She took a few steps towards him, wearing the clothes she'd been wearing on the tarmac when Dorney's body had arrived, and kneeled down in front of him. "I have missed you _so_ much, Jethro," she said, cupping his face in her hands. They were warm against his cheeks. He leaned his forehead against hers, savouring the vision, knowing it would probably be the last time he saw her before his own death.

"What do I do, Katie?"

"You move on." Her voice was soft, the answer quiet. "And you take care of the people left behind. McGee. Bishop. Ducky. Abby. _You._ "

"Katie…" It was barely a whisper. He tucked a strand behind her ear. "I love ya."

She was in his arms then, warm and solid against him, and if he closed his eyes, he could pretend that this was real, that he wasn't kneeling on a rooftop, hugging a woman who'd been dead for eleven years. He could smell her hair, and his eyes welled up at the memories it brought to mind. She pulled away and smiled at him, a real smile. "You know…" she said conversationally, "I've always loved flowers."

And then without a word of good-bye, she was gone, and he was left there. He could still smell her hair, feel her warmth against him, and he didn't care. He stood, his knees disagreeing with his position, before looking around. A light breeze ruffled his hair, as he spun in a circle, looking it over with a builder's eye. Maybe it was time for a break from the boat…

He could already see the flowers blooming in his mind's eye.

 **XNCISX**

It took months, and the harsh winter nearly wiped out everything he had. He spent the winter inside, building trellises and furniture, sketches for awnings and plans for getting the elevator in order splayed across his work bench. But before that, he spent the summer of 2016 laying patio stones and planting whenever he could get a few hours when he wasn't working and he could sneak away. It was nice, the sun on his face, the wind in his hair, and he could remember the people they'd lost. He occasionally roped McGee, Bishop, Abby and Palmer into helping him with planting and laying stones, and assembling deck furniture. They all pitched in willingly, and then they'd collapse laughing, on some of the sod he'd lain on the roof, the new life blooming over top of the old blood stains.

And if Gibbs had understood the conflicting feelings of watching it unfold, he would have called it closure.

Since Kate's death, he'd planted a different type of flower every year in his backyard, and he spent the better part of a day, bringing clippings of each plant.

A few days into April the following spring, he'd found Forget-Me-Nots blooming in some of the gardens, and with a lump in his throat, he took it as a blessing.

Placed here and there among the fragrant flowers and vine-covered trellises, were markers, monuments to lives lived and lost.

McGee showed up one day and hung a pride flag over the edge of the building, and when Gibbs asked, he only had one word in response. "Dorney."

A bourbon bottle filled with sand from Mexico, for Mike Franks.

A stone with the Star of David carved into it for Ziva.

A tiny statue of the Eiffel tower for Jenny.

Smaller plaques for Cassidy and Pacci and Qasim.

One for Jackie Vance, placed with Leon's blessing.

And in the middle of the rose garden, a bronze frog with a toy plane leaning against it, for his Katie.

It was a team effort, and it may have come together slowly, but Gibbs knew that it was the best tribute he could have come up with. And it wasn't even his idea. He remembered them, all of them, whenever he looked at the garden, wandering through what he'd built with his own hands.

They would not be forgotten.

 **XNCISX**

"Tim?"

Tim looked up from where he was sitting at his new desk. "Yeah boss?"

"This big party you an' Delilah are plannin'… where are ya havin' it?"

"We don't know."

"Apartment is too small."

Tim smiled at that. "I know. Delilah reminds me _daily_ that it's too small for anything useful."

Gibbs walked over, and leaned against Tim's desk, grinning down at him. "I've gotta suggestion."

"Oh?"

"The garden has a full workin' elevator, and plenty of space, Tim. It's peaceful, and everythin' is bloomin'. It's summer. And gorgeous view of the sunset there."

Tim blinked, surprised. "Are you sure, boss? I know it's kind of private…"

"I don't think Kate will mind. Or Ziva… Tim, it's a full circle kinda thing, isn't it?"

Tim was slowly nodding along. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"I think you have their blessing, Tim." Gibbs patted McGee on the head. "Ya have mine."

Tim grinned. "If you're sure, boss. I'm sure Delilah will love it, she loves flowers."

"Tim… celebration of a new life together… unless ya wanna move on from the past, and do it somewhere else?"

Tim smiled, the wedding ring catching the light, a wedding that so many hadn't been alive to see. "Boss, it's a beautiful garden… and we need better memories for that roof top."

A life had ended on that roof top, and now it was blossoming full of life, plants overflowing the planters, lives cut short honoured with a growing tribute of new life and renewal.

It wasn't a perfect tribute, but it guaranteed that their lives, and their sacrifices would never be forgotten.


End file.
